


Chapter 1: The story continues

by Sycamore_Southers



Series: There's Nothing To See Here [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycamore_Southers/pseuds/Sycamore_Southers
Summary: Penny and Baz have been scheming behind Simon's back trying to find a way to restore his magic. When a solution falls into their lap in the form of Agatha wanting to dump her magic their only hiccup is that Simon won't take it.The gang (isn't it great that they can be a gang now?) struggle to figure out the best way to move on past last years trauma and learn some hard truths along the way.Also, some gooey love scenes that I couldn't help :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Simon**

 

Agatha is sitting on a beach sipping a virgin Cuba Libre, unless she’s gotten over her aversion to alcohol in which case she is sitting on a beach sipping on a coke with actual rum. Probably it has more ice then liquid, and one of those paper umbrellas that makes drinking it hard. But maybe she’s sitting in a dark empty dorm room huddling with her dog and not having plans.

I hope she’s on the beach.

Usually.

I really only think of her when I’m missing my magic. I always miss my magic, but sometimes I miss it more than I can really say in words. And in those times, I think of Agatha.

Even now, I’d call her a friend. Though it’s difficult to relate to someone who wants exactly the opposite of what you do. And who, it turns out, never actually liked the things you loved.

Baz squeezes my hand to remind me that he’s holding it then gets up. “Want anything?” he calls from the kitchen.

“Always.”

Truthfully though I’m not as perpetually hungry as I used to be. I mean, I can still eat like a fiend, but now I actually get full. Penny thinks it’s because of my magic being gone. Like my magic used to burn through my calories super quick and now that it doesn’t my body needs less food.

When Baz comes back he’s rubbing an apple dry on his shirt and holding the milk jug with an upside-down glass on top of it like a hat. (Even if it’s not his own milk jug he can’t stand me drinking out of it.) (Penny doesn’t mind. Sometimes when he’s not around I drink straight from the bottle and send the poor-mannered vibes towards him just so he’ll have something to grumble about while he’s bored.) He holds it out for me and I take it.

He’s sitting across from me pouting and thumbing his apple. Now he’s sitting beside me on the couch doing something wicked with his mouth. And now he’s on top of me like I’m a pony, tossing the apple behind his back.

Could your best friend/roommate/non-sidekick also be your babysitter? Because as Baz slips his long fingers down the collar of my t-shirt Penny shouts, “Don’t treat food that way!” from the kitchen. “And Charles Shultz I’m right here!” She stomps by us (I think she likes stomping; being around Baz has really opened her up to it.) and closes her door loudly.

I’m not really prepared to make out right now. (Even if Baz is fucking great at it. Better than he thinks he is). I’m just thinking too many things right now: Baz’s tongue, Agatha abandoning magic, Baz’s thighs around my waist, having gotten a C on my final speech in that lousy public speaking course, the fact that my university’s putting Peter Pan on forcing me to face posters of the Mage’s doppelganger all over the damn place, Agatha abandoning all of us and then refusing to return Penny’s calls, Christmas coming up, Baz’s cold hands on my back.

Suddenly my wings pop out knocking both of us off the couch. Merlin, I must be agitated, that hasn’t happened by accident for months.

“Alright there, Snow?”

I get the feeling he’s referring to the wings and not the fall.

“Yeah,” I grumble.

Just then there’s a knock on the door.

But I’m too stuck between Baz’s leg and the coffee table to answer it.

How loud were we being? Mrs. Downstairs is deaf, so we couldn’t have been bothering her.

The knocking continues.

“Are either of you fantastic morons going to get that?” Penny stomps through the sitting area over to the door.

I glance at my watch, 8:15 on Monday night. This is her Skype time with Micah.

She opens the door and I can’t see Penny’s face but can tell by the way she rubs her left foot against her right heel that the visitor is unexpected.

“Good evening Penelope,”

It’s a voice I very well expected to never hear again, especially at my front door.

Miss Possibelf is at my door. Clearing her throat. My face flushes as I tug my limbs apart from Baz and drag my body awkwardly up and forcibly tuck my wings away. (I learned this nifty trick about a month ago. Not that tucking them away makes them completely out of the way, but they get small enough that I can fit comfortably in most chairs. They’re kind of like Baz’s fangs in that way.) (Baz called me an idiot for taking so long to figure out how to use my own wings. I asked him how long it took him to figure out how un-dead he is and that shut him up.) Meanwhile Baz stands up like he was on the ground on purpose.

“Miss Possibelf,” he says, seeing as neither Penny nor I is getting our act together. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Miss Possibelf walks past Penny over the threshold of the apartment. “Basilton, Penny, Simon, it’s good to see you.”

Penny finally closes the door. “Hello Professor,” she says turning around. “What are you doing here?”

“Not that you’re not welcome,” I interject.

“I actually came to speak with you, Simon.” She presses her lips together, but not like she’s upset. More like she is looking for the best way to proceed.

Baz sits on one of the fancy chairs and crosses one leg over the other. “Well then,” sitting there like that he kind of looks more like my lawyer than boyfriend, “have at it.”

“It’s rather a sensitive subject.” Miss Possibelf says smoothly and unintimidated. She must have spent a lot of time being spoken down to in her many years of service to the headmasters of Watford. “Simon,” she looks at me exclusively even though Penny and Baz are still totally in the room listening. “Would you mind if we excused ourselves?”

Miss Possibelf had never minded being in a room alone with me, even when I might go off. She saw me practically erupt with magic one time when we had a private meeting to discuss fixing my lisp (which is totally gone, thank you.) (And was barely noticeable at the time anyway.) (My stammer on the other hand…) Looking at my old professor makes me miss my magic even more – if that was possible – and hate that public speaking course more as well – which I completely knew was possible.

“No,” Penny sticks her hands out and shakes them, “you two stay here.” She grabs Baz by the wrist and jerks him up. I can tell he only lets her because he is too surprised not to. “We’ll get out of here. Text us when you’re good and done.”

She grabs her mobile and drags Baz through the door. A moment later she jumps back in runs to her room, apologizes quickly to Micah, and snaps her laptop shut. Then she grabs a sweatshirt and exits the apartment while yanking on trainers over mismatched socks.

 

**Penny**

 

I can’t believe Miss Possibelf is actually here. And I can’t believe Agatha isn’t. That…

I know global warming is serious and not to be made a trifle of, but at the moment I’m not complaining. Because it’s nearing the end of December and all I’m wearing is an old Watford zip-up, shorts, and trainers. A chill breaks through me and I shove both my hand in my pockets. My magic isn’t the kind that can keep me warm, not like Baz’s, or like Simon’s used to be.

Baz shrugs off his fancy wool jacket (sometimes I think he does it on purpose, picking things out that most emphasize his vampirism) and hands it to me, which I take.

I also can’t believe Baz is still walking next to me. I sort of expected him to stalk off in the other direction. Really, I expected him to stay put. He’s definitely stronger than I am. I’m glad, though, that Baz is still walking with me. I’m glad of him beside me. Even though he’s scowling and looking nasty. Especially because he’s looking nasty. With him beside me I’ve nothing to fear from the drunks on the street. (Simon and I probably could have chosen a nicer neighborhood, but if anyone jumps me I have magic, Simon has a look that could frighten a serial killer, and the rent is great.) 

Not that I’m actually worried that I’d get hurt (again, magic) but it’s still nice to know I won’t be messed with. With Agatha the risk was always doubled.

Agatha…

Just thinking of her right now is making my hair frizz. Baz and I find ourselves in a park, which would be a weirdly romantic place to find ourselves without Simon if I didn’t know we were here so Baz could find himself some comfort food.  

After he’s drained a pigeon behind a tree he finds me perched on a fountain I visited with Micah last time he was here. I’m sitting on the cold concrete with my feet inside where the water would be if it were spring.

“Done already?” I ask smirking.

He raises one of his stupid eyebrows. “I don’t want to get fat.”

I should probably get up but I just don’t feel like it. Agatha is making it frustratingly hard not to hate her right now. Ugh, and there were so few people I liked in the first place!

Baz comes over to sit beside me but faces the opposite direction so it’s as if we’re playing musical chairs. “What do you know?”

Nothing really. Nothing useful.

“I followed you out of that flat on the assumption that you knew something.”

His skin is the color of the concrete and his eyes are as hard. It is amazing how much like a vampire he looks, especially in the dark. If we were an episode of Buffy I would be killed just about now to show the severity of the situation.

“Just that Agatha has been talking to Miss Possibelf.” Agatha got on really well with Miss Possibelf while we were all at Watford. Probably because Elocution is all about making words look good and Agatha could make anything look good.

“And.”

I look up at the statue in the center of the fountain without actually moving my chin away from my neck.  “Well, I’m not supposed to know. She told Miss Possibelf not to tell my mother and Miss Possibelf told her not to tell me.”

Baz turns his neck and looks at me like he has somewhere important he needs to be going and I am holding him up. “And?”

“And….”

“Spit it out.” Baz’s patience is spent. “Next time I say it with magic.”

I roll my eyes. As if he has the nerve to actually use a compulsion spell on me. (I should probably give him less credit.) I was always going to tell them eventually. “Agatha has been trying to get rid of her magic.”

Baz at least looks genuinely surprised “Pardon?”

“She’s been trying to ditch her magic, but it isn’t working.”

Holly Rowling it feels good to finally say, I am never keeping secrets again. (Except for the project. That has to stay quiet for now.) Not because I can’t but because it is just way too much of a hassle. “I guess Possibelf is here to see if maybe Simon could help.”

Baz tilts his head away from me and manages to curl his lip and nose. “That bitch.”

“You know, it’s not respectful to swear about a professor.” I say looking away from him. I haven’t been afraid of Baz for a while now (I was never _really_ afraid of him; I actually thought Simon would win) but still that face reminds me of less cordial times.

“Not Possibelf dolt,” He looks directly at me squinting and pinching his eyebrows in. “Wellbelove. That bitch.” 

“It’s not nice to swear about Agatha either.” I say as if I haven’t been inwardly cursing her name for months. 

Baz nods his head at me like I’m stupid. “Since when am I nice?”

“Fair enough.”

Baz stands up and climbs into the empty fountain and places himself right in front of me so I _have_ to look at him. “First she dumps Simon so she can chase after me. No, first she tries cheating on Simon with me. Then she dumps Simon.”

Merlin, Morgana, and all the Druids, Pitches sure have a knack for grudge holding. This is hardly news, but seeing it in action is almost special. When the grudge isn’t against you.

“Who even cares about that? She and Simon were a disaster.”

As if uninterrupted (because he’s definitely had this rant prepared for ages) Baz continues “Then she refuses to help us and tries to tattle on us to the fucking Mage. And then she leaves Ebb to die and runs off to California with that dog you possessed. Because in all of this, it’s the dog’s life that she thought was worth saving.”

“She couldn’t have helped Ebb anyways.”

“She ran away from magic.” His arms are stretched above his head making him even taller and scarier. “What kind of person leaves magic?” He turns on his heel, walking towards the center of the fountain. “Magic is the literal best thing since sliced bread.”

Incidentally, sliced bread and magic were discovered around the same time, with sliced bread pre-dating magic by only a few years.  The sliced bread really freed up early mages time to mess around with magic and come up with the first spells.

He spins around and stomps towards me, “No, it’s better, and she just walked away. Crowley, if she didn’t want her magic _she_ should have stopped the fucking Humdrum and let Simon keep his magic. Solved this fucking mess before it even started.”

I press my lips together and try to come up with a good defense for her. But it’s hard. “You know that wouldn’t have worked.”

Baz gives me the stink eye and plops down cross-legged in the fountain. “You never tell Snow what he knows.”

I look at him directly because I can. “He doesn’t know as much as you do.”

Baz rolls his whole head and returning to the point says, “Besides, she runs off and leaves everyone she’s supposed to care about behind. Who does that to their friends and family?”

“I’m pretty sure she still calls her parents.”

“You only had three friends.” A pigeon flies overhead and Baz eyes it distractedly. He foregoes the snack and focuses back on me. “Her leaving dropped your friend-count by a full third. Now you have, what, two friends?”

Now it’s my turn to glare at him. “I still have three friends”

He raises both of his eyebrows and shoulders, “You met some adventure loving, spontaneous Normal with no sense of self-preservation at uni?”

How does Simon even put up with him? “Obviously not.”

Baz looks up at the light polluted sky running a list obnoxiously through his mind, “Then who’s three?”

“You, you jackass.”

Baz stands up in the fountain and dusts off his trousers. He steps out of the fountain and stands right in front of me. Again. “So Wellbelove leaves and now you’ve been forced to befriend me.”

Alistair fucking Crowley the world’s gone mental. Even though Baz really isn’t that bad, and Agatha was never really that good. But still.  I stand up and he backs away so I’m not in his personal space. “That bitch.”

We’ve walked a few paces without a destination in mind when I decide we both have better ways of spending our time than wandering around a park on a weeknight.

“Let’s go back to your place.”

Baz does one of his smile frowns where he makes his mouth go up and down at the same time but his eyes seem all excited. “Are you trying to proposition me?”

I gag. If I was drinking something I’d probably do one of those spit takes like they have in sitcoms.

“I’d rather kiss a basilisk. That’s where you keep all of our notes.” I turn to leave the park and he follows.

 

We started looking for a way to get Simon’s magic back almost as soon as he lost it. We couldn’t get truly serious about it until after Simon came out of his stupor. For about a fortnight he barely said anything and spent his waking hours clinging to Baz, or to me when Baz had to go hunt. Literally clinging. It was pretty uncomfortable for everyone. And not because of the gay thing. Simon hadn’t figured out how to put his wings away or control his tail yet.

I still have a scar on the back of neck where Simon clipped me with his tail when I got up to go pee without warning him.

And then Baz went back to school and Simon and I didn’t. Baz, to his credit, stayed back an extra week after Christmas break ended until Simon verbally gave him permission to leave. (Baz said he could stay forever; the only mage at Watford he worried might snag his place at the top was me and I wasn’t going back.) (That made me blush even more than Simon.)

Simon stayed by us even though the Wellbeloves were absolutely willing to have him. It was a pretty glorious time for my relationship with my mother that she kept Simon around despite him now being unable to walk from one room to the next without thrashing something to the ground. In a night he went from being a Golden Retriever to Clifford the Big Red Dog. (Admittedly Simon spent most of his time not leaving his bed.)

After the trial ended is when we really got started. Baz and me. We left Simon out. In case we never found a solution. In case it might stunt his recovery. Baz worked from Watford, having his family send him books from their personal library and using the books my mom brought from ours. Now that she’s headmistress the Watford Library has had a rebirth. The bookshelves are full. And not just of old records. There are actual books now!

I worked from home and from the university library. Baz and I talked over the phone once a week to share what we’d found. He even gave me his number. Which is good because I had already nicked it off Simon’s phone.

We haven’t actually gotten very far. There isn’t really much to do if you’re not willing to sacrifice any virgins or slay a dragon.

“ _What about maiming a dragon?”_ I asked recently. _“Do we actually have to kill it or can we just hurt it”_

 _“How is it that I was the evil one at Watford?”_ Baz responded.

We agreed at the outset not to do anything that Simon wouldn’t be willing to. I had to remind Baz how many lines Simon was willing to cross to save lives and the world of mages.

Baz had to remind me that Simon was noble and never did those things on purpose or because he wanted to. As if I wasn’t the one helping Simon cross those lines and stopping him before he got too far at the time. As if Baz wasn’t the one making us cross those lines in the first place.

 _“Yes, and if we were trying to restore my magic,”_ he tells me when I bring it up,“ _I’d say let’s behead some trolls just for the laughs, but Simon is a better person than I am.”_

 _“That’s because you’re not a person”_ I grumble returning to my books.

We’re almost at our limit here. Not that either of us will give up. This whole Agatha situation might be the break we need. From what I can tell Transfer Magic is actually fairly straightforward and, if the mages are willing, not too wicked. I was trying hard to keep it from being this way.

 

We get to Baz’s flat and I slip out of Baz’s jacket and hung it up in the coat closet. I’ve probably been here more times than Simon. There’s a whole punk-rock vibe here that I’m not sure is meant to be hipster or sincere. It’s funnily clean as a fucking whistle. A brand-new whistle, not the kind that’s been in a gym teacher’s mouth and is swathed in germs. The whole place is plastered with dark posters and occult paraphernalia (the fake kind that Normals believe in) yet there isn’t a fork in the sink and the fridge smells like air freshener.

Baz shuts the door behind him while I sit down on his black leather couch. It’s about as inviting as one would expect any of Baz’s furniture to be but it’s alright after you’ve gotten used to it.

“So, you knew this whole time and you kept it from me.” He says making his way over to the cabinet where we’ve been keeping our notes. “What happened to ‘I still have three friends’?”

His impression of me is pretty insulting (he pulls his face into his neck giving himself a double chin and makes his voice all high) but I’ve been keeping stuff off the table and out of his notes for weeks so I forgive it.

“How in Hades’ Hell are we supposed to work this out without sharing information?”

“Glue’s on the other fang now,” I kick my shoes off and bring my legs beneath me so I’m sitting pretzel style.

He grabs a pile of notebooks and folders, “Crowley, what does that even mean?”

“I was just keeping something I didn’t know was relevant off the table”

The only word I can think of to describe Baz’s face is incredulous. “How could Agatha potentially being able to give Snow her magic not be completely relevant?”

“How could you not tell us about the numpties?”

I can see the words _over a year_ ago forming in his mind as he glares at me with his concrete eyes.

The problem with me and Baz is that we both tend to answer questions by asking questions. Or by shooting the question down entirely. With Simon he’ll just answer you without trying to think of why he shouldn’t.

Maybe that’s why he’s the hero.

He decides to side step my numpty comment for the sake of efficiency, I can only imagine.  

“How long have you known?” He’s rubbing his temples. Never a good sign.

“I don’t know, a month?” This is the real trouble with lying. When you finally come clean it is such a scene.

“A month?”

I hang my head, “I’m lying, I found out about three months ago.” Never again. 

“You’ve been living with Snow this whole time,” Baz looks at me really self-righteously. It’s not a good look on him “Knowing, and you haven’t told him?”

I could point out that he’s been dating Simon for about a year while doing this research project with me. I can’t imagine that would make him less pissed off though.

“Well Simon’s not exactly ‘Mr. Notice What Stinks’.” Baz can glare at me all he wants. I’ve already lied and decided not to again in the future. “And three months really isn’t _that_ long anyways.”

All of this is just damage control. Which Agatha always took care of back at Watford. But I figured out how to handle it when she left us all on that lurch.

“We’ve been off doing this ‘research project’ for almost a year and he’s never asked any questions. I mean, Stevie Nicks, I stopped erasing the white board in our flat weeks ago. Now I just cover it up with pictures and other random junk”

He’s still holding the pile and not sitting down. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He’s repeating his questions the way Simon does when he doesn’t get the response he wants. It’s not as endearing.

“Because,” I look down at the black triangle of couch made by legs.

“Because you don’t trust me.” He carefully puts the pile down on the coffee table. He looks like he would have thrown the pile down on top of my lap so I could feel its full force if he wasn’t so compulsive about keeping the notes tidy.

I look up at him. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” and I do trust him. “It’s that I know you.”

His face softens, not much because Baz’s resting face is kind of a thin-lipped scowl. But he looks less like he might murder me. Probably because he knows I’m right. “I knew you would fly right over to California and kidnap her and take her magic.”

He sits down wordlessly.

“We already agreed not to use anything too dark and taking Agatha’s magic would be selling-your-soul-to-the-devil dark. You weren’t willing to touch a dragon!”

“Wellbelove would be a willing volunteer!”

I cast a **_See what I mean_** and start two columns from my spot on the couch: what we know and what we don’t know. I’m filling out what we learned last week about fairy god grandmothers (pretty nifty but you have to eat tremendous amounts of butterscotch and explain why you are still single, even if you aren’t. Plus, you have to find the fairies) when I pause and finally spill the whole truth.

“And because my mom thinks Agatha doesn’t so much want to _give_ Simon her magic as dump it in a river and pretend it never happened. She wants to talk to Simon because he’s the only mage who’s ever successfully gotten rid of his magic.”

“Alistair Crowley! That flaming horrible –”

Whatever calm he gained leaves him. I can tell his fangs are popping. I’m oddly unafraid. Objectively speaking Baz looks pretty terrifying, with his long features rigid, furious grey eyes, and his massive venomous (poisonous?) fangs popping. It’s just been too long. Maybe one day I’ll be properly afraid of dark creatures but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Well yes,” I shift on the couch. “But then I thought maybe we could take it.”

“You thought!” Baz tugs at his hair like he might pull it out. (He would never, Baz loves his hair.)

“I was going to tell you,” I stop before he can point out the obvious. That I should have told him already so we could turn this possibility into something practical. “I just thought maybe we could come up with something else. Better.”

Baz watches me from his spot on the couch like I’m half troll. But he's calmer and his fangs have retracted.

“And that maybe Agatha would stop being an absolute moron and want to come home. I didn’t want to be the one to cut her lifeline.”

She was my friend for so long. We made gingerbread cookies every Christmas break, and she taught me how to do that Katniss braid. And that’s what people don’t get about my only investing in enough people I can count on my hand. I never give up. Ever. It’s one of the things I get about Simon.

Baz is sitting across from me not going up in flames. Or sounding any alarms, or throwing curses at me. “You’re taking this freakishly well.”

“I’m flaming furious. Almost literally.”

It’s good that he isn’t. Simon might kill me if I let Baz go up in smoke. Even without magic I bet Simon could take me if it came down to a brawl. (It wouldn’t, right?)

“Right now, Miss Possibelf is asking Simon to help Agatha ditch her magic. She is asking Simon to help his ex-girlfriend live out his own personal hell. While we’re over here discussing trust and friendship.”

I don’t even bother apologizing. Baz knows I’m sorry. And I know he’s going to be mad at me until he gets back to Simon’s side. Instead we both read up on ways to transfer magic until my cell goes off telling me that Possibelf left and we’re out of Aero bars.

 

**Baz**

 

When Penny and I get back to the flat Simon isn’t in the main room and Miss Possibelf is gone. Thinking of him waiting alone for us – me – to get back makes my gut hurt. Makes me wish we hadn’t left at all and just waited outside the door and eavesdropped. I would have been able to hear the whole thing. And been able to stop Miss Possibelf before she got too far.

Penny puts about two-dozen boxes of Aero bars away in the kitchen (I helped her use a nifty **_Gallifrey tech_** spell ages ago to make the cabinets bigger on the inside) while I head straight for Snow’s room.

I can tell he is trying not to cry by the way his lips bunch together and his eyes twitch. Tomorrow he’ll be strong. Tomorrow he’ll be the guy who got right up after his                       archenemy pushed him down a flight of stairs like it was nothing. Tonight though, he’s sitting on his bed above the covers resting his head on the edge of the headboard staring at nothing at all. One of his million-mile stares.

I crawl up next to him and tug his head down onto my shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t even want to think about it.” Simon starts shaking his leg like there’s a leech sucking on his toes. When Snow has too many things on his mind he squints like he’s got a migraine. He could just be squinting now to keep from crying.

“It won’t hurt you to think about it. It’s not like you’ll blow anything up.” Snow’s face goes all blotchy and he looks wounded. I know prodding him isn’t nice, but it is my best bet at opening him up. Also, bad habits and such.

Simon mumbles something unintelligible, even for me.

“Use your words.” I say, finding his hand beside mine.

Simon yanks it away so fast the friction could start a fire and jumps a foot away from me. He looks like the guy who at thirteen defeated a chimera, who once held infinity in his chest.

“If one more person tells me to use my fucking words, or speak up, or make better fucking eye contact I swear –”

Then he loses his nerve. His head droops and his back slumps. He doesn’t smell like ash or smoke and I think he wants to. Poking the bear isn’t working. He’s soft so I try to be.

“Simon, I’ve seen you cry already. Being embarrassed now is just a waste of our time”

Simon looks as if I just stepped on his foot. With steel toed boots. Crowley, my version of soft is about as cuddly as a mace. I try again. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”

I reach out for his shoulder to rub it. This he responds to. He grabs my back and for a moment I think he’s going to jamb his mouth into mine and repeat the hot mess that was our dance at the Leavers Ball. Instead he pulls himself into me, burying his face in my chest. Soon he’s crying like he’s watching _Up_. (We both cried our eyes sore. Simon said that was proof enough that I have a soul.)

“I can’t take her magic,” he sobs into my torso.

So Possibelf came to discuss giving it to him after all. Good. The vindictive bubble in my chest deflates a bit and the evil thoughts of cursing our former elocution professor with a permanent lisp fade. He should definitely take her magic. Fuck Agatha “You don’t have to.”

Snot is dripping down onto my jumper, “I want it so bad.”

“That’s okay too.”

“But I can’t.” He swallows and it’s just as much a scene as always, except with extra air and saliva. “She doesn’t get how hollow she’ll feel without it. Or solid.” He gulps down more air, “Hollow and solid all at once. I ca-can’t take it.”

“You don’t need it.”

I have to say that. What if it doesn’t work out, even if we try? I need him not to blow all his progress. I mean, he just joined the fencing team last month and has been actually feeling _good_ for the first stretch of time since Watford.

Seriously though, fuck Agatha, I would suck her bone dry of magic to give it to Simon if he’d let me. I already would have if I knew it was an option.  Penny, as usual, was right. Obviously.

I’m sitting on top of him now encasing him in a hug. He moves his face away from my chest leaving a wet mark on my abdomen that makes it look like I’ve been doing serious crunches. He looks up at me with big watery blue eyes and stubbly eyelashes.

“How could she want to get rid of it?”

His lips quiver. If he weren’t sobbing all over my shirt I’d kiss him.

“How could she walk away?”

“Because she’s a moron.” She truly is. “I mean seriously, she broke up with you.” I stroke the back of his head and bring it back to my chest. “Which is all the better for me.”

I could easily bite him, right on the neck, right now. That would make him magic again too. But not the right kind of magic. I hug him against my chest instead and kiss the top of his bronze curls. When I turn him, I want to be sitting on top of him just like this. Except without all the crying.

Simon’s tears get quieter. He’s breathing like a vacuum cleaner. He looks down and whispers, “I can’t take her magic, even though I want to.”

“No one’s going to make you.” I might. But only because a dimwitted bitch like Agatha really doesn’t deserve magic. And Simon Snow so does.

Simon shifts away from me and wipes his eyes with the palms of his hands. “And I’m going to fail that public speaking course. I only got that C because the Teacher’s Assistant is into me and doesn’t know I’m taken.”

I can tell the whole public speaking bit has been bothering him for a while. Probably he was waiting until he got upset about something else to bring it up because it feels kind of trivial on its own.

I pull at his hand to bring him back to me. He complies by falling head first into my chest. I stroke his wings – I think he likes that. “Fuck public speaking.”

“It makes me feel like a child. Like I’m back at those children’s homes and I can’t get through a sentence”

I can feel his heartbeat going faster. He shifts a bit but doesn’t pull away.

“Or like I’m back at Watford screwing up spells and making an arse of myself.”

The one thing Snow never does is forget how shitty a mage he was. Everything he had in way of power he lacked in way of controlling it. Though I would argue that being able to pull wings out your back without a spell is control enough.

“You just have to say what you mean.”

“I never know what I mean.”

 

Snow has always slept in a knot. He rolls and kicks and is a literal pain to sleep with. I’m no teddy bear either. But still we tend to fall asleep in each other’s arms most nights anyway. Usually I end up in his arms because of his wings.

Tonight, I don’t care. Before he has the chance to wrap himself around me I pull away and climb over him. Then I slide behind him and tuck my arms across his chest.

If he tried doing the same he would probably spaz out and sprain an ankle (And I’d laugh my ass off before spelling him better.)

He doesn’t protest. Instead he just falls asleep.

Trying to hold onto a sleeping Simon Snow is like cuddling with a bludger. Except a bludger that pants, groans, and sweats.

Eventually I fall asleep to his whimpering.

In what feels like a minute later I’m woken up by a punch in the face, from a red leathery wing.

 

**Simon**

 

When I wake up it’s still dark out; the clock reads four fifteen. My wings are spread, my tail’s whipping wildly, and I’m all alone in the bed.

I jerk my head around trying to find him, “Baz! Fuck. Sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Snow?” he calls from somewhere beneath me.

I try standing up but I’m out of breath and kind of crying. My feet get caught in the sheets and I stumble over myself crashing to the ground. But at least I find Baz.

We’re so tangled, its worse than yesterday morning. I don’t see how we’re going to break apart without chopping off a limb.  I’m crying all over again and I feel like I’m back in first year. Except now I’m not at Watford. And now it’s not Baz who is making me cry.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

I can see (kind of) that he wants to try stroking my back again to calm me down but I’m crushing his arms right now so he can’t do more than send me positive vibes. Which is hard for Baz on a good day.

My wing is bent the wrong way and I yelp pathetically, “It hurts.”

Baz tries to move out from under me. “Crowley, I’m stuck.”

I grimace. I think my wing is broken.

“Fucking wings.” I am spent. I give up on trying to hold myself up and let my weight fall fully on Baz relying on the super strength he’s always going on about. “Penny help!”

Baz is laughing manically. I haven’t heard him laugh like this since the morning the Humdrum ruined his Victorian (Gothic) mansion. I take it to mean that I’m not hurting him.

Penny stomps in. “Seriously?” She must think we were doing some weird sex thing. “We need to draw lines. Very clear, thick lines. In permanent marker.”

She thrusts her fist forward towards us “ ** _Parting is such sweet sorrow_** ”

The force of her magic pulls us apart into opposite corners of the room.

Baz rubs his neck, “Shakespeare, impressive.”

“G-d damned wings…”

Baz pulls out his wand to do some healing magic, “You know I quite like the wings. Generally.”

“I just wish they were retractable…” I say as he crosses the room and meets me in my corner.

Baz uses **_Get well soon_** and even though I can’t feel the magic the pain vanishes. I tuck my wings away and if I didn’t know better I could pretend this was retractable enough. When they’re like this the wings are barely a nuisance. And the tail hasn’t been trouble since I learned to control it. (Now I can even use it to grab an extra soda or something.) But I’ve knocked Baz out of bed after nightmares too many times to truly pretend that I can go on like this.

Penny crosses her arms and tilts her head thoughtfully. “If you take Agatha’s magic they would be.”

We watch Penny leave the room. Without closing the door.

Even though I’m tired and puffy-eyed (from all the crying) I make to follow her to the living room. But then Baz puts his hand on my chest.

“Simon, love,” He’s not even doing anything with his face. It’s just his droopy eyes and downturned mouth.  “Go back to sleep.” Then he pushes past me.

“Wait,”

He comes back to me and places both hands on my shoulders. He stands tippy toe just to make me feel short then kisses the top of my head. Then putting a minimal amount of force in his hands shoves me back onto the bed. “See you in the morning.”

He walks away from me through the open door shutting it behind him.

There is nothing left for me tonight so I fall into my bed and fall asleep.

 

All of our semesters are ending with exams coming up (the last final between us is Penny’s on the 24th), and I’m really the only one enrolled in missable classes. But still, when I leave my room far past when all of our classes or review sessions should have started Baz is snoring curled up on the couch while Penny is sitting at the kitchen table nursing a massive mug of coffee I can tell is spelled strong.

Until I’ve eaten I’m pretty useless so Penny doesn’t even bother talking to me as I approach the table other than the obligatory “Morning.”

I nod in response.

When I reach the cupboard, I take out the Special K, milk, and an Aero bar. Baz thinks it’s funny that I eat cereal designed for middle-aged women trying to lose weight.

Once I’ve shoveled a bowl and half of cereal and crushed chocolate down my throat I figure I may as well start.  I glance over at Baz sleeping remarkably soundly on the couch unsure if I should wake him. He seemed to know what I was getting on about with Miss Possibelf and Agatha without me having to explain. It wasn’t the first time I wondered if vampires had extra powers that Baz chose not to tell us about. Maybe he figured I wasn’t in a state to explain so he guessed at what to say.

I set my spoon down, “I, uh…”

This is why Penny usually starts the team meetings.

“Listen,” I try again. I start telling her about last night’s meeting when Penny interrupts.

“I, we,” she nods towards the couch, “already know.” She hangs her head making her bushy bun extra noticeable. “My mom told me a while ago, I told Baz last night.”

“Oh,” I don’t really have much else to say. “OK.”

“I’m sorry,” she looks deflated. Baz really must have took it out of her last night. “I should’ve said something.”

“Maybe.”

I’m not sure her telling me would’ve made a difference. Probably I’d have had two meltdowns instead of just the one last night, because Miss Possibelf would have come last night anyway. And no amount of preparation ever actually stopped me from overreacting. Or regular-reacting as the case may be. Meltdown completely withstanding, finding out that your ex-girlfriend wants you to take her magic off her hands so she can fully and finally separate herself from the world you grew up in together would knock anyone on their arse.

“So, you know Agatha wants to,” I try motioning pulling something out my chest and throwing it away but Penny is looking at me like I have a football for a head, “ditch her magic.”

“Yeah,”

“And that she needs somewhere to stow it.”

“Come again?”

I eye her, curious as to her sudden shock, and go on wearily, “She came to Possibelf because she couldn’t get rid of it. Not unless she had a place – or person – to put it in. So Possibelf came to me…”

Penny snaps her head up “What?” She slams the table hard. My bowl and spoon jump. “That's why she needs you,” she says it like she’s solved a riddle. “This is new. We thought she just wanted pro-tips.”

“Pro-tips?” I’m better off not asking and Penny is already up and making for the sitting area.

She plops down in one of the comfy chairs they had me carry up by myself when we moved in. (It took me almost a full week to let either of them sit in them for not helping.) I grab an apple from the fridge and follow her, dumping my bowl in the sink to wash later. I fall down into the other empty chair, then stretch my foot and prod Baz awake.

“Where’s the dragon?” he slurs clenching his eyes shut while sitting up.

“We,” Penny pauses to correct herself, “I had it wrong last night about Agatha.”

Baz sits up straighter on the couch and his hair falls lazily around his face. He blinks his eyes and I toss him the apple.

“Thanks,” he says groggily, but still he doesn’t fumble the catch at all.

Penny catches him up while he methodically eats the apple and I stare at his reflection in the TV screen (early Christmas present from Baz. We decided to celebrate in November this year counting on none of us, me in particular, feeling especially cheery come the actual holiday.)

Baz swallows the last bit of apple, “So she _needs_ Snow to take the magic?”

“Yeah,” Penny answers.

Baz gets up trashes the apple core and moseys over to the cupboard. “Why, though?” Baz says with his back to us.

“Why what?” Penny thumbs her ring. I can tell she wants to cast a **_See what I mean_** and start listing off what we do and don’t know. I should have gotten her a white board instead of that book of Shakespearean insults. (I didn’t get the white board because technically we have a floor to ceiling white board wall. But she’s covered it with pictures.)

“Why does she want to get rid of her magic? Obviously.” Baz says from the kitchen.

“Because she doesn’t want it anymore.” Penny says, “Obviously.”

Baz returns with a bag of vinegar crisps and a grumpy expression, “Am I a moron?” He looks at me as he sits back down on the couch. “Is this what you feel like when we talk about iambic pentameter?”

I frown. “It’s probably hurting her.” Neither of them hears me. And it’s not because I’m mumbling, though I could probably afford to speak up louder.

“I mean fine,” Baz says chewing on a crisp, “she doesn’t want to use her magic–”

“Not really,” Penny interjects, “it’s completely awful!”

I swear, they don’t even need me here.

Baz swallows another crisp, “Yes! It is awful.”

They both do this weird head nod when they agree on something. Like half of their face is heavier than the other.

“But can’t she just burry it down like normal person?”

That _would be_ Baz’s solution. That pretty much is his solution to being a Vampire. It’s hard to say that he’s wrong. But I think I get why it won’t work for Agatha. Baz is quite good at both hating himself and handling pain. Neither of which I think Agatha is equipped to deal with. I’m staring at the coffee table when I say, “Her magic is probably hurting her.”

They both stare at me like I just invented the light bulb. I stare back not believing they don’t know.

Penny speaks first, “Why would her magic be hurting her?”

“Because she’s probably not using it around her new Normal mates and magic hurts if you keep it in for too long…” I say it like it’s self-evident because it is. But as they keep staring I get the vibe that they didn’t know magic worked like that. It, this, knowing something they don’t feels amazing. Almost like magic.

Now I get why they read so much.

Baz is munching silently on his crisps, his grey eyes narrowed.

Penny folds her arms and says, “Are you going to explain?”

Back in our Watford days when Penny and I (and Agatha?) were like the Mystery Inc. (without a lovable dog) we would be searching endlessly for clues and Penny would flip her shit when I stumbled upon that one vital clue by accident. Eventually by our sixth year she reluctantly accepted it as part of life.

It was just one of those things, like her roommate being an irritating pixy, always getting second best scores right behind Baz, the Mage dressing like an animated character famous for never growing up, and me solving the mystery by doing very little leg work. Which I always made up for with actual ‘leg work’ later.

“I guess why would either of you know?”

In Watford they always warned us not to use our magic indiscriminately so as not to waste it but still had us use it regularly. Otherwise it’d get rusty. But also, as I learned the hard way every summer, because if you didn’t use it often enough it got mad at you ignoring it and pushed back.

I really thought everyone knew this…

Penny rolls her eyes at me “Oh, please. Continue being vague.”

I guess she hoped life after Watford would even itself out. And if she didn’t have to room with Trixie anymore, or compete with Baz, then I also wouldn’t know more information than her without trying.

But to be fair, I didn’t stumble upon this information per sé. I’ve known about this for years. And she has never tried actively researching the topic.

“Magic wants to be used.” I say loving getting to lecture her on magic. “If you go too long without using it will start pushing back.”

“Come again,” Penny says while Baz’s face mirror’s her request.

“It gets mad, bubbles up and starts burning your palms or the bottom of your feet. That kind of thing.”

Baz folds up his empty bag of crisps. “Why do you know that?”

I can’t very well say I read it in a book. (Though it’d be priceless to see their faces if I did.) I start picking at my fingernails with my tail. Baz doesn’t know this about me.

“I used to go summers without using my magic because I was afraid of going off. I only ever used spells when I had to, and since I didn’t have to use it for school I would just shut it down. But it would get too big to fit inside me, uh, and try pushing itself out.”

Penny scrunches her nose thoughtfully, “Couldn’t that just be your magic?”

My magic had always been different than everyone else’s. So, I get why she might think that. My magic hurt everyone else; it makes sense that it could hurt me too.

“I thought so at first until Agatha told me she was sore all over from not using magic,” I explain. “It was after that run-in with the Yeti.”

“Oh,” Penny nods. “She was pretty rattled that time.”

Baz folds his crisp bag further, “Sounds intimate.”

“We did date for three years.”

Penny heads us off before Baz can dwell, “Ok, so she has a motive, now let’s see how to make this work”

 

Penny had to leave to take a final. Baz eventually conceded and went to Penny’s room to study. (He can’t use mine because he says it makes him think impure thoughts that take him out of his studies.) (He also says its revenge for all the nights he _knows_ Penny stayed in his bed against his wishes.)

Penny comes back around eight, and together we eat a meal I’ve made out whatever I found in the fridge. Unlike them, I no longer have the benefit of magic to improve the taste of my food (though, to be honest I’d never use it for something like that even if I still had it) so in the year since Penny and I left Watford I actually had to learn to cook.

After we’re done eating (and Baz is done washing, we’d probably leave the dishes in the sink indefinitely. It’s a good thing Baz isn’t above washing dishes) Penny takes out a spiraled notebook and a purple pen.

“I suppose it’d be easier to talk with Agatha in person,” I say.

“We also probably couldn’t get her magic over the phone,” Baz says plopping down into the chair beside mine.

I glower at the table, “I still don’t know if I want to.”

Last night it’d been easy to cry in Baz’s arms. But now in the light of the kitchen I can barely make eye contact.

His life would be easier if I had magic. There’d be no toeing around it or treating me like an invalid. He’s been great, better than I could of anticipated, but I can tell he wants me to have magic. I can also tell he wants it for me though.

“Either way,” Penny says tapping the pen on the table, “it _would_ be best to talk with Agatha. And Simon’s right, we ought to do it in person.”

“You think we should fly out to California?” Baz says and in his statement you could tell just how Baz felt about hybrid cars and sunny beaches. (Though I bet most vampires feel the same about beaches…)

“No,” says Penny, “it’s the holidays. I bet she’ll be coming here.”

“The family parties,” I say nodding. Agatha hated those and used to use me as an excuse to ditch out of them, but still I couldn’t imagine her not going home and missing it.

We, well really Penny and Baz, come up with a plan. It has too many uncertainties for Baz to satisfyingly call it a plan but it’s just about right as far as Penny and I are concerned.

After my revelation from earlier I sort of bowed out while they talked logistics. Every so often one or both of them turn to me and look like they’re saying something important. I don’t have the headspace to take in anything new so I just nod along and look interested. Hopefully it’s nothing they can’t explain later.

No one’s decided on anything but I can tell that they both think I should go through with it if I can. Penny seems more intrigued than anything else.

Trust Penny to find the scientific value of my conflict. This is probably her way of getting back at me for not letting her stay in my dorm the night of the visiting with Baz’s mum.

I let them sit there discussing while silently running through the pros and cons on my own.

There are really only pros, except for the one enormous con I can’t get over: leaving Agatha magickless. Even if she doesn’t want it right now I can’t let her go through with amputating herself from the magic community, and magic itself.

Because that’s what it would be like for her to get rid of it. It wouldn’t be like clearing your closet of old jumpers you don’t want so you may as well toss or donate. It would be like actually amputating a leg off your own bloody body.

If I were a soldier who’d been wounded in battle and left paraplegic, she’d be the fucking arse who took a saw and lopped off her own limbs. 

Jumping Jane Austin, I’d like to have my magic back, but I’ll fuck a nine-foot troll before I take it from someone else.

“We know it’s a lot to take in,” Penny says looking nervous.

I come out of my reverie too late to actually hear what she’s referring to. “Yeah,” I nod non-committedly.

“You’re sure you’re ok with all this?” Baz says peering out from his puppy-dog eyes. He reaches his hand to mine and covers it like paper over rock.

“Yeah,” I half smile hoping that’s the right expression.

“So, she’ll come here the twenty fourth?” Penny says. “We’ll all be on break, we’ve already celebrated Christmas.”

“And if we wanted to go through with it,” Baz says still holding onto my hands but looking at Penny, “Christmas is a good time, holidays are auspicious and such.”

They both look to me giving me the final vote.

“Yeah,” I nod, “the twenty fourth sounds good.”

Baz gives me a look like he wants to make sure I’m not just agreeing because they want me to. I know that if I admitted to it though he’d just try and lecture me as to why I should’ve agreed at the outset.

Penny raises both her eyebrows, “You both ought to go off to bed. The pair of you look like shit.” She waits for me to get off the chair to go on, “I’ll phone Agatha, you won’t have to talk to her till she comes.”

“Thanks,” I say yawning.

It’s only ten but still I head off to bed and Baz follows.


	2. Marching On!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha arrives and the gang is all back together, sort of...

**Agatha**

 

I can hardly believe I’m still able to walk after so effectively shooting myself in the foot. I walked away, started again, made new friends, made a new me. I died my hair pink! I mean it’s blonde again, but now it’s from the bleach…

I stopped using magic. I followed Lucy’s example and I stopped myself from becoming a casualty in their confounded squabbles. Sure, the last fight died with the Mage, but everyone is fooling themselves if they think a new conflict won’t just arise in a year or two.

But now I’m back. After all I put in to get out I’m back. And I am not better than ever.

I’m standing outside their door, Simon and Penny’s door. Validating all (ok, maybe not all, but certainly most) of my teenage angst. (And I bet some of Micah’s.) It’s not a very nice door – the paint is chipping. They could easily fix that with magic, which I know Penny isn’t above. If she ever took the time to notice something like the quality of her door.

I know my anxiety isn’t about the door. But everything in me is telling me I should have stayed in California and this door is saying it loudly. It’s saying “nothing good is waiting behind a door this unkempt!”

I hear voices pulse through the thin walls. There’s also magic for that. Something like **_hear no evil_** not that I’d ever bother with it. (I would just be quieter.) But I’m surprised that Penny hasn’t. (And annoyed, considering all the grief she used to give me about not using spells when I “easily” could have.) It sounds familiar, like coming back to my childhood bedroom. Or watching Dr. Who reruns.

“You, moronic troll!”

“Basilton Grim Pitch, today I end you!”

It’s _too_ familiar. And what the hell is happening in there anyway? Why is Simon even talking to Baz, what is Baz doing at Simon’s flat? Today? What is Baz doing attacking a magickless Simon? (Ich, I wanted to kiss that treacherous leach. Disgusting.) Did he find out why I’m coming, and is he planning to try taking my magic for himself?

“As if you could!”

“I mean it – this ends now!”

The text said there’s a key beneath the mat. (Which Penny obviously picked up at some novelty shop. It reads “Carpet Diem”) (Good for Simon. If we lived together I would never let him display something so tacky outside our door. Good. Good. Good. Fucking fabulous.)

“So, this is how the mighty Snow falls.” I can hear Baz’s sneer through the door. “Poetic really.”

I bend from my knees, lift the mat, and get the key. There are spells for retrieving stuff too. Like **_finders-keepers_** or **_come out, come out wherever you are_**. But bending takes, like, two seconds. And I’ve gone almost a year without using any magic at all. I’m not ruining that now.

“Get off me you creep!” Simon sounds urgent.

Have I always been this hesitant?

Slowly I stick the key into the lock. This isn’t where I belong. Or where I want to belong. I’m not qualified to save anything. Which is, I suppose, why I’m here.

“NO, PENNY!”

Instincts born of poor decision making and too many stupid adventures kick in as I hear my old boyfriend shout my (old?) best friend’s name. I jerk the key in the lock and slam the door open.

A pillow collides with my face.

“Crowley Bunce, your aim is shit.” Baz says coolly.

Penny tosses another pillow at him, this time hitting her target. “Shut it Numpty bait.”

“Low blow.” Baz nods his head and squints his eyes evilly at her. His widow’s peak looks extra pointy and his skin is more grey than white.

He’s holding a video game console. He and Simon are both holding freaking video game consoles. On the wall opposite me a massive flat screen TV displays some stupid game. I look down at my feet and see the pillow thrown at me is a stuffed Tardis.

I turn on my heel and walk away leaving the key in the G-d damned door.

 

How are they not bored of this? I mean, really! It was one thing when they were at school together. Forced together by that ridiculous Crucible. But Baz is making house calls, and in what world do any of them play video games?

I don’t want Simon to chase me. I don’t want to turn around and see his floppy curls and gangly run. (When Simon runs his arms flail and his head bobs. Honestly it looks more like tripping.) But he was supposed to come after me anyway. Then we would talk about why we shouldn’t get back together. And why maybe we should.

Eventually we would get to magic. Why I don’t want it. How I understand what I’d be giving up. We could walk around the city. In all the years we dated we never actually went on good dates.

Back at Watford I never expected Simon to follow me when I decided I had had enough of his shenanigans. If he and Penny were in the middle of saving the school from a Cyclops or something he stayed to fight and apologized later. That’s part of the reason I left him. But today, right now, Simon was supposed to follow me. Nothing makes a girl feel pretty quite like being followed by a hero. And Simon Snow, if nothing else, is the hero.

Penny comes instead.

“Come on!” she calls from the stoop in front of her building. She is bent over and huffing. She actually ran to catch me.

“No,” I stop where I am because it’s the polite thing to do. “We all know this was a mistake.”

“You came all this way,” now she’s jogging to and trying to catch her breath at the same time. “And you’re leaving now!”

It’s not a question. Penny almost never addressed questions to me.

“Yes.”

I used to say “yeah” all the time when I meant “yes”. I didn’t even notice until a drama class I took last semester.

She’s clutching her side, “Why, because I hit you with a pillow?”

“Yes.” And because of the video game, and the shared flat, and the fighting, and Simon, and Baz.

I guess I broke up with Simon. Which means I can’t really be upset about Piman (I didn’t come up with the couple name on the spot, I’m not that swift. I came up with it years ago, before Simon even asked me out. That is how sure I was that they would end up together. And now they have. Lovely.)

She’s standing right in front of me wearing a flower-print dress I saw at the Gap with an A line and hem a few inches above the knee. It makes her look sixteen. I wish she would just dress in jeans and a t-shirt like a proper nerd.

“You don’t get to run away again.” Her arms are folded like she means business.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” She doesn’t. Not anymore. I’m done following her plans and adventures. Still I wish I sounded less like a child.

“You can’t just leave and then call and then leave again!”

“Why not?” I’m standing under a street lamp. If it were dark out, I’d be standing in a pool of light that would set my hair on fire. “Jesus, why the hell not?” I can tell it bothers her that I’m swearing like a Normal. “People break plans all the time.”

Penny puts on her most sanctimonious face. I know it well. “Because you are a good guy. And good guys keep their word.”

This is why I freaking left in the first place! Because for Simon and Penny (Piman) its black and white with no room for grey. Baz is all grey. Is it any wonder they never got along?

“And because you wrecked Simon by asking for his help. The least you could do is actually talk to him.” 

I hate when she’s right. I hate when she knows she’s right. I hate when we act like she’s right even when she isn’t.

I follow her back towards her flat. Begrudgingly. Reminding myself that I brought this one on myself. No one asked me to contact Simon after almost a year of non-communication. It’s not like all those misadventures at Watford. And this is finally my opportunity to rewrite my destiny (take that Baz).

When we reach the front door to the building I could swear I spot Baz (think of the devil…. or vampire.) sulking in an enclave. For a moment I think he’s giving me one of those come-hither looks he gave me all throughout November when he returned to Watford late in our eighth year. But then I glance over at Penny and realize it was meant for her.

 

 

**Baz**

Simon thought maybe she wouldn’t show. He was wrong, but then also right. Wellbelove came all the way across the Atlantic just to turn around at the door. And then all it took was a little pep talk from Bunce to get her back. Talk about a total lack of conviction. Crowley.

Simon had me leave the flat. Not by asking me to leave but by asking when the last time I hung out with Dev or Niall was. (They’re both in London, also at university.)

“ _On purpose_?” I asked.

We were still standing in the sitting room in the wake of Agatha’s interruption, our game still on pause.

“ _Text them, do something evil_.”

I think he doesn’t want me around for when Agatha gets back. I don’t really want to be there either to be honest. But I also couldn’t up and leave. (Unlike a blonde I could mention.)

“ _I’ll be alright here_ ,” he tried smiling.

I was still going to stay until he came over and put his mouth to mine and kissed me. It wasn’t a challenge; there was none of the usual pushing. It was just his lips (and tongue, Alistair Crowley, that tongue) and mine and then he pulled away. “ _Really, I’ll be fine_.”

I grabbed his waist, “ _I’ll have them steal a boat off the pier. I’ll become a Vampire pirate_.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, “ _Only if I can call you Captain Widow’s Peak_.”

I didn’t text them. They’re probably in the middle of exams and I don’t really care to see them now. They haven’t embraced Simon the way Penny’s done with me. Instead I’m sulking on the stoop of the building next to ours. Leaning against the door with my arms folded in the shadows.

I tried getting Penny’s attention as she walked Wellbelove back up to our (their) flat. For a moment I could tell Wellbelove thought the look was for her. Honestly, I can’t imagine what she even thinks I’m doing here.

I wonder if Simon is going to be straight (well straight about being gay) with her. And if he isn’t, if Penny will.

I wonder how long I can reasonably stay on this stoop. Before I seriously consider finding another place to mope around I smell brownies. (In truth, people don’t generally have distinct smells. Last year when I complained about the smell of ‘brownies and intensity’ it was more figurative than literal. Last night Penny was stress baking though and she still reeks of it.) I look up and see Penny approaching me.

“Ahoy, Captain Widow’s Peak,” she says saluting me.

I don’t respond because she’s being absurd. Instead I roll my eyes.

“Simon thought you were going to go cause some trouble with your minions.”

I unfold my arms and step off the stoop. “I decided to pass.”

Penny nods, “Fair enough.”

We both start heading in the direction of my flat though neither of us agreed to do so. I notice Penny is carrying her school bag.

“I’ve got an assignment to do,” it’s Penny’s way of asking if we can just go to my flat without talking about why. Her last final was earlier today; she shouldn’t have any schoolwork yet.

I’m not in the mood to be difficult so I just say, “Yeah.”

 

 

**Simon**

 

Before our eighth year Agatha and I spent loads of time together, just the two of us. Even before we started dating. We were never awkward then.

Now we’re awkward.

Penny left almost as soon as she came back. She truly cannot tolerate a seen.

Agatha is standing in the center of the sitting room looking like she missed her transfer on a train and is trying to make a contingency plan. She looks the same as the last time I saw her except without the horror in her eyes or the blood. Just as pretty, just as perfect. Her pale golden hair still makes a halo around her head when she stands in front of a light bulb. For the first time I wonder if she positions herself around a room to get the best light on purpose.

She’s staring at the door while I stare at the floor. She turns around and brushes her hair behind her ears.

“So, you and Penny.” Her eyes dart around the apartment.

I walk over to her so we can use our indoor voices. “Me and Penny, what?”

I can tell she’s frustrated and impatient. “You’re really going to make me say it.” She folds her arms across her chest. Typical Agatha move. “You and Penny finally got together. I knew you would.”

It takes me a whole minute to grasp what she’s upset about. When I do I burst out in obnoxious laughter. “Seriously, you think? You think I’m _with_ Penny!”

Agatha glares at me, annoyed and bewildered.

Crowley, I’m laughing so hard my face hurts, “I’m dating Baz.”

Agatha looks like I’ve thrown an actual brick at her. She takes a step away from me.

There are tears in my eyes. I wipe them away and force a serious face. “I’m dating Baz. You’d know already if you went to the Leaver’s Ball.”

Agatha looks like she’s about to leave again. She even turns a bit towards the door.

“No,” I move to cut her off, “Don’t go.”

She turns back to me and looks at me plainly, “Why not?”

“Because you need my help.” Even though I secretly don’t plan on giving it to her, I still don’t want her to leave. “You want my help. Besides, you came all this way. We should at least talk.”

She doesn’t seem particularly content or happy with my reasoning but for now she gives up on the door, walking further into the apartment towards the picture wall.

Agatha picks a picture off the wall, “So, you and Baz?”

I meet her by the wall but leave a generous amount of space between us. “Yup, me and Baz.”

“I’m not even going to pretend that makes sense.”

She drops the picture on the table and picks up another, this one of me with my arms around both Penny and Baz’s shoulders knocking their heads against mine. Penny and I look out of our minds excited. Baz looks skeptical, but amused. We’re all in assorted Star Wars paraphernalia.

“Opening night?”

“Nah, couldn’t get tickets. But I had them dress up with me anyways.” I smile as she checks out other pictures on the wall. She lands on one of me her and Penny back from our Watford days. The three of us are on my bed laughing freely while Baz is on his bed scowling in the corner. There’s a scar under my left eye, so it must have been from fifth year after we took care of another wave of goblins.

It almost feels like we’re friends again.

Until she says, “He’s a boy! My ex-boyfriend is dating a bloke.” It’s more to herself than to me. In fact, she seems to have forgotten I’m here at all. Which is stupid because she’s standing in my flat examining my pictures after having flown all the way here to meet me.

I don’t really have anything good to say. There isn’t anything good to say. I mean I get why she’s upset about it. She’s not actually a homophob or anything, but it has to knock her on her ass. (Seems fair after all the time I spent on my ass in the wake of Miss Possibelf coming around.) Also, unlike Penny and Baz who always know exactly why they’re upset Agatha (like me) needs to rage a bit before getting at what’s truly ruffling her feathers.

I start out tentatively. “Yeah.”

Wrong move.

Agatha takes a sharp breath and purses her lips, “ _Yeah_?”

Let the raging begin: her nostrils are flaring and with the lighting the way it is her hair looks like white flames engulfing her face. Oddly she’s still beautiful.

“What? Did I turn you off girls?”

“No, it’s not you.” I try making her understand, “It’s Baz.”

I’ve always sucked at getting people to understand.

“Holy fuck.” She presses her thumb and middle finger to her temples and then decides better of it. “All this time, watching him sleep, plotting! You shared a G-d damned room!”

“We weren’t together at Watford.” Now I am defensive, more than I mean to be. “I never cheated on you.”

“Really, now? You’re bringing that up now?” She glances around the room, either to avoid looking at me or to find something to throw. “It obviously doesn’t matter.”

We’re supposed to be talking about magic. All this arguing is tiring me out. I find a stool and sit on it. “I don’t get it, would you rather I be dating Penny?”

Agatha stays standing. The only other chair is in the shadows.

“Fuck yes! You wasted all my time – years of my life – bitching about Baz and how fucking evil he is, and how he’s plotting to kill you, and how he’s a threat to every living thing at Watford and outside it. And now you’re _dating him_!”

I don’t usually get these, but a voice in my mind that sounds an awful lot like Penny whispers “Aha.” But figuring out what’s getting her so bothered by my dating Baz doesn’t make me more sympathetic.

 

“Baz is a bigoted jerk!” she goes on. “Doesn’t that bother you? When he’s nasty and mean?”

I swallow hard. “He’s really not that bad, I mean he’s not the picture of world peace but it’s not like you are either.”

Technically she is, or at least was. Agatha was practically Watford’s patron saint. Shining her countenance upon every student and staff member there out of pure benevolence. The sun shone just for her and she shared that light with everyone. Her face was even the cover of the Watford brochure with the caption _Be your best self for the betterment of our world at Watford_. 

But then she left, and the sun didn’t follow.

She closes her eyes like she can’t even bare to take in my being anymore. “How can you even trust him after all of those years of plotting?”

“Well he’s not plotting anymore, is he?” I scratch behind my ear hoping I don’t sound offhanded but also knowing that I do.

“How would you even know?

 _Penny would tell me,_ I think. Then I immediately feel guilty. Baz isn’t plotting against me. He kisses me good morning even with my morning breath. He hugs me close to him when I’m sad, and when he’s sad. He calls me Simon now, and Love.

“He’s not plotting anything.” I try to sound sure. Then I try to be sure, “He’s not.”

She opens her eyes only so she can give me a pitying look, “But he makes you cry, I’ve seen him pick you raw”

“Well sometimes I’m crying anyways, and then he helps me stop.”

She puts both of her hands up almost like she’s praying. “But what about all those years when it was him?”

“What about right now when it’s you!” I’ve reached my limit. “You ran away and Baz didn’t. He stuck beside me and he stuck beside magic.”

“How can magic mean so much to you, all magic has ever done was hurt you and everyone you ever cared about!”

“Magic didn’t hurt me. The Mage hurt me.” A full year of therapy and I can get through this sentence. “You hurt me.”

“But he’s so awful. He’s mean and he teases you. How do you live with that?”

Baz is a funny creature (and I don’t mean the dark kind but I suppose he’s that also). He’s a lot like a first grader with a crush – at least he used to be. He pulled my pigtails, kicked dust in my face, and said I was fat all because he wanted me to look his way and make his heart flutter.

Ok fine, he shoved me down a flight of stairs, set a Chimera after me, and let me know how useless I was whenever he could. But now? I’m never not looking at him. And when I’m lying against him he tells me how fast his heart would be racing if it could…

“When it bothers me, I ask him to stop.” Answering feels like a betrayal. But Baz is a Grimm Pitch so maybe this just makes us even closer.

Her mouth hangs open, and unlike angry, dumfounded doesn’t look good on her, “And he does?”

“Yeah.”

Ok, truth? He doesn’t. Sometimes. Sometimes I’ll remind him that I’m an idiot and he’ll remind me that he knows. But usually, he stops.

Agatha turns her back on me. But she doesn’t make for the door so I stay sitting. She’s looking at the photos and picking them off the wall.

“So, he’s not evil and planning your demise, but he can’t be nice. Don’t you want to be with someone nice?”

“What, like you?” I make a very Baz-like expression. “It was real nice of you when you just ran away and let Ebb bleed to death.”

That one may have been beneath the belt. I’m angry and we still haven’t even gotten to magic.

Agatha keeps her back to me, still pealing pictures off the wall. Like one of them might clarify how her whole world became unrecognizable. I get up and move towards her until I’m standing beside her. It’s a place I’m used to. Though in the past it always felt like she was beside me.

I wonder if that’s why she left.

She hasn’t taken my favorite one off the wall yet. It’s of Baz, Penny, and me by last Halloween. We all went dressed as ourselves. Baz wore a ludicrous vampire get up. He slicked his hair back with so much gel I could actually see my reflection. He wore this posh grey suit and let me dribble fake blood down his chin onto his shirt. Penny had this witch costume with a pointy hat and a cloak, and her glasses from first year. I just let my wings and tail hang out fully visible.

I know they did it for me. When I was a kid growing up in homes all we ever got was discount candy that tasted like chalk and there was never enough money for decent costumes. We all looked a little like Halloween on regular days anyways. In Watford Halloween was too sacred for it to be any fun. The only festive part was the candy corn, and I might have been the only kid there who actually liked it.

The Mage loved Halloween.

This year I was prepared to sit at home and sulk with a whole bucket of candy corn holed up in my room. I didn’t even have the energy to bang the exposed brick wall in my room.

Baz and Penny gate-crashed my pity party before I even got it going wearing those perfect costumes. “ _Come on,_ ” Penny said as if I was holding all of us up on plans we made together.

“ _We’re going as our horrifying selves,_ ” Baz said wickedly. Then he gave me a headband with devil horns and a pitchfork. He called me a fallen angel, his fallen angel.

I got so many compliments on my wings that night, even a few on the tail. The next day we decided on early Christmas.

Agatha takes stalk of the pictures she’s already removed. She reads them the way Penny reads Dr. Seuss. Like there’s a hidden meaning, which she’ll find if she looks close enough. (Penny went through a phase where she only ate toast with the butter-side down. I’m still not fully sure what she was hoping to accomplish.) About a third of the photos are on the counter when I look up and reach for the Halloween picture. Carefully (because I’ve since lost the phone the picture was taken on and only have this one printed copy) (Did I text it to Baz or Penny?) (It’s still better to be careful…) I take it off the wall.

There’s something written on the wall underneath it. I scan the gaps between pictures.

The markings are in different colors and look like Penny’s handwriting.

“Agatha, I think there’s something here”

Agatha looks up, “Where?”

One by one I remove the photos off the wall. I don’t want to smudge the writing. “On the board”

I’m half done with the remaining photos when I can make out clearly the two columns: What We Know and What We Don’t Know.

Well, fuck me.

Agatha might be high-strung and a bit of a killjoy, but she is not the I-told-you-so-kind. And thank magic, because Baz _has_ been plotting something. With Penny.

 


End file.
